The Passion of Lovers
by Vombatiformes
Summary: Some vampires lie in darker places than others.


**The Passion of Lovers**

Wombat Boi

**A/N: **I do plan on following up on this, but I think it stands well on it's own. The title is from an old Bauhaus song. It's short for a reason, but most people don't mind a quick read so I don't think that'll be a problem. Happy reading!

- Wombat.

I felt his arm wrapped around my waist from behind. It hadn't been there before I'd fallen asleep – he must have summoned up some fleeting ounce of courage sometime during the night. The darkness in the room was heavy – it was that time of night when, although you know dawn is only hours away, you feel as though the blackness will never lift and you'll never find your way into the light again. When shadows turn into serial killers and the voices you hear out on the streets must be from the ghouls that are slowly making their way to your front door. I wondered if he would notice if I'd left at that moment – if he would have felt me lift his arm away from my body, if he would hear the soft noise of me sliding wrinkled jeans back onto bare skin.

I turned onto my other side, facing him. If he noticed, it was through some split-second twist in his dreams. He squeezed his eyelids together, tighter for a moment, and then his face was once again a serene mask of sleep. I wanted to lean forward and kiss his cheeks as his eyelashes did, long and wispy against his flawless pale skin. There was something different about this boy – I knew it from the second he approached me, impossibly tall and thin, on the boardwalk outside the video store. He never hesitated – it wasn't long before his hand was around the small of my back and we were walking side by side down the tourist infested anthill of a town. Some older men glanced back at us, I wasn't sure if there was anger or jealousy in their eyes, but I figured it must have been a little bit of both. I knew I wasn't half bad looking myself and these men had only their wives and social morals to prevent them from approaching me the way my companion had. Married men simply didn't hit on pretty young things like myself.

But he had, and I felt a sense of pride. I would not be alone tonight and for once I didn't have to seek out someone myself.

I ran my hand along the side of his face and he stirred, eyes opening slowly, slitted and staring out at me from behind those long, heavy eyelashes that had melted my heart only moments before. He smiled and I felt my insides flutter. He had conjured up some long-forgotten magic and enchanted me, I was sure of it. For the first time in my life I couldn't imagine leaving those dark, dark eyes behind. They were as moist and brown as the ground at night, right after a rainstorm that had shook the sky. He reached up and touched my face as well. I smiled back, my mouth forming a thin little line of contentment that he seemed pleased to have caused.

"You're so beautiful." He sighed, and his breath was warm and pleasant against me. Probably the only lover I'd ever had without dragon-breath. I blushed.

I gently climbed onto him, my hands stabbing the mattress on either side of his shoulders. I looked down at him – his soft skin and large eyes and strands of long, ivory hair clinging to the pillow. I leaned down and kissed him on the lips, and he kissed me back. Outside, the street lamps next to his house were bordering on florescent and I wondered how many bugs had met their last moments there, searching for that glimpse of insect-paradise they always seemed to be searching for. The light filtered through the blinds on the windows and I noticed really for the first time how wonderfully flawless his skin really was. The artificial light made him look like a corpse.

I leaned in to kiss him once again felt him brush his lips against the side of my neck again, and when he stopped kissing me, I returned the favor. He only made a ghost of a protest when I pierced his flesh with my fangs and he only struggled a little bit when I began to suck him dry. He didn't realize he was lucky. If he had come onto any other boy they would have made sure he came to a much more violent ending than this. At least I offered him some peace – and that's all anyone can really ask for when they die.

I decided to stay in his house to wait out the long daylight hours, covering up the windows with heavy sheets and curling up against his body until the nighttime came again. It was peaceful there, next to him, even though by the time I left his last breath had been long gone and he had been cold for hours. I wondered if I would find another boy who would stay with me, who would not die. Santa Carla was full of boys. Even the straight ones could be persuaded to spend a night with me and a night is all I ever asked for.


End file.
